Buffet of Toes, an Austin and Ally one-shot
I do not own Austin and Ally.
(me time)
The sirens aren't following him, for that three miles he's going over the speed limit. Which is really good because he hardly needs to explain getting a ticket to his wife, when in actuality he's rushing home so the ice cream doesn't melt before he arrives.
Nobody wants melted birthday cake ice cream.
Even if they are pregnant and craving it.
With her belly poking out far more than it used to, she's been stealing everything. The covers, the majority of the bed space, the bathroom. She always has to pee. He gets it, really. If he were pregnant, he'd pee more too.
Why did they rent a place with only one bathroom?
Oh, right, the college fund. So their angel to be can get a proper education like their parents never got. Not that mom and pop aren't intelligent. Momma to be is a complete nerd.
She's also an angel. Figuratively, in that whoa, she can sing kind of way. The whoa, she's beautiful way too, though that's irrelevant. Sorta. Well, it was relevant enough to catch his attention, win his heart and get her knocked up.
Knocked down as he recalls. He pushed her straight into the mattress that night.
Crap, four miles over the limit. Better slow down.
He cranks the radio up. It's not that he doesn't love her, and taking care of her, but he could really use some me time. So he steals some time for himself.
Looks like Ally's not the only thief around here.
(the show)
Taking on a part this close to her giving birth may have been a mistake. While he wanted to challenge himself, playing an old fogey of a music teacher, he never expected to be away this much. Like seriously, how often could they need a minor character on set?
Stupid fans and their stupid pandering to them. The producers say that his presence rakes in ratings or cash, something like that.
He takes it back. They aren't stupid. Just persistent. Asking him to do meet and greets and charity events and concerts to promote the show.
Invading what's left of his privacy when he goes out, hand intertwined with his lady.
It's the last one that gets him. He doesn't want his kid to be in the limelight. Or any other fruity illumination for that matter.
He should have taken the year off to take care of his future offspring.
Should've, could've, would've. Those word only work when things aren't written in pen. The contract, the past- you can't erase those.
Running lines, he glances over at her offscreen, munching on celery. She's had a hankering for it for two days straight, constantly nibbling. Not much else.
Explains why she fell over from malnourishment, doesn't it?
Austin bolts to her. In both meanings of the word. Ran, ran, as fast as he could. Stayed by her side, like a good hubby should.
"Let's go." He hoists her up by her armpits. A few cast members peer in curiosity, concern, what have you. He knew there was a reason he brought her along today. Her life is always more important than him stealing any show.
"How are we going to finish the scene?" a young extra asks.
"Dunno."
Frankly, he doesn't care.
(thunder)
Morris is going on animatedly about his luck in finding a twenty dollar bill on the ground. Ooh, such an accomplishment for someone who makes a pretty penny as the main character on a teeny bopper's wet dream of a tv show.
Yeah, the main cast is gorgeous. They could make twenty dollars in ten minutes, if you know what he means.
He's not sure if he even knows. How long do those things last? Professionally speaking, as he only knows what applies to him. One girl has been plenty for him.
At first he thinks he's rehearsing for a scene. There's a whole story line, with him walking down the street with Clarice, his co-star, competing to see who can lick their ice cream cone faster. There was a mess of sprinkles and chocolate.
How cliche. Just like every other line in this show.
The things they do for fans.
Like countless locker room scenes, so Morris can show off his five pack. (In truth, there is a six pack that appears if he flexes, yet more often than not, the one vanishes).
And eating. Of faces, not ice cream. A subdued cannibalism if you will. If you won't, well, you're the minority. Cause it gets steamy, and everyone can feel it.
"So we bought twenty dollars worth of bouncy balls and sent them rolling down the street."
"That's a lot of balls bro." A round of giggles from the less mature members of the circle. Clarice comes over and wraps her arms around her co-star's neck. Peck on the cheek.
About time. This is tabloid worthy. Something to get himself and their impending baby off the cover.
Speaking of, there goes his phone.
"Wait, your water broke?" The circle turns around.
Someone seems to be missing their thunder.
"You're not due for another month. Are you sure?" She responds positively. Negatively? She's positive something negative is happening. "Okay, I'll leave now."
And there goes the lightning.
(parking spot)
There's a six month old crying in the backseat. There have been circling the parking lot for five minutes, and horns are blaring.
Man, parking at cast parties is the worst.
He was missing for half the season, and he's a new dad, yet they want him to come. Specifically with the baby. The one with too many honorary uncles and aunts who shower him with gifts and kisses.
Yet no one wants to change the diaper.
Ally spots the perfect gap. He spots the other driver. Left turn signal, activate.
The other driver moves forward, uncaring, and he slides into the pace, barely unscathed.
"Are you insane? You could've gotten hit!" Sticking her head between the seats, she checks on their child. Still breathing, good.
Unbuckled, she makes her way around to take him out of the car seat. She cradles him to her chest.
"You're okay, right Churro?" Rubs that cinnamon patch of hair. Sniff. "Aw, he wet himself."
"I almost did too." She turns pink immediately after the words tumble out. No way to talk her way out of that one.
Then again, when could she ever take the foot out of her mouth? One wrong thing, and she becomes the fat kid at a buffet of toes. Keeps shoving them in there.
No more feet will be going in her mouth. They need to carry her to the bathroom so she can change this diaper. No one is going to photograph her son with a full diaper. Hopefully no one will snap a photo period. Austin may steal parking spaces, but the paparazzi steals her privacy. And her sanity.
Sometimes life is not fair.
Taking off the diaper, she gets squirted.
Theory confirmed.
(pen)
A fan hands him a pen to sign her notebook. She's studying for a test, but he's right there in all of his old man glory. Older man glory, as having a baby on your him doesn't make you old. It makes you tired.
He scribbles some encouraging words and begins to sign his name as she jabs on about her final exam.
When Churro starts to cry, he excuses himself to change the diaper.
By the time he returns, she's gone.
"You forgot your pen!" he shouts around, though no one listens.
When he returns later the next week, he sees a girl that he swears could pass for her double, if she had lopped off all of her hair into a pompadour. Perhaps she's a sister or cousin or someone, anyone who can return her pen?
He digs into the diaper bag to find it. Balancing his son on his hip he makes his way up the hill.
"Oh my gawd, it's Austin Moon!" A fan gushes, and he makes quick of signing her arm, not bothering to note that it'll wash off by her next shower. Capping the pen, he hurries up the hill. At this point the girl is descending and he notices it is indeed the same girl. What are the chances that someone else would have the same triangle of birthmarks on their right cheek, along with all the rest?
"Hey Stacey."
"Hi." Her mood seems dimmer than last time. Plenty notches down.
He should return the pen and carry on. It's not his place to pry.
Still, everyone needs a shoulder to cry on. Churro may be sleeping on the right, but his left is open for tear drops.
"I still have your pen. How'd the exam go?" He gives her a look, and although he is unaware, he's opened up a wound. One that he's more than willing to help bandage.
"I didn't go." She tugs at the sleeves of her awkwardly long sweater. In May heat, she should be in a teeshirt like the rest of the park.
Concerned, he bounces his baby as he quietly asks her, "Everything okay?"
Because it's completely obvious that things are not okay.
And so he listens. He pries and listens, because sometimes the thing you need to steal is the hurt and the pain. Even he's had those days.
Today is her day.
(jokes)
Austin walks into the room feeling refreshed. Now that they've hired a babysitter, he can finally get some sleep. Which means he can enjoy his son, and all the responsibilities of a dad. Like telling bad jokes.
This one he stole off of Dez.
"What kind of pet can you keep in a toilet?"
Since Churro can hardly talk, past baby babble, Stacey answers for him. "What kind?"
"A turd-le."
Why did she laugh? It feels good as it tickles her ribs. After all the crap she's been through, he's been helping her get back to normal. Because he can. Some day his son his going to grow up, and he wants him to learn how to treat a lady.
As long as he doesn't take after the way he treats Ally for the next eighteen years. As much as he wants a grandkid, those things can wait. Unless you're referring to the way he holds her hand when they cross the street or how he looks at her like she holds all the light in the world.
That he wants in practice as soon as possible.
(heart)
They come home from dinner out, curled into each other's embrace. Stacey is watching cartoons with Churro, stroking her hand through the growing patch of hair.
"I wish I could have a love like yours." She smiles at the blush growing on Ally's cheeks.
"What can I say? He stole my heart."
Always the thief, never the criminal. If not, she'd have a record too.
After all, was it really stolen, or just traded?
"You stole my heart first. I wrote a song about it and everything." True, that he did.
Traded it is.